


The Boy Who Couldn't Draw to Save His Life

by TheOceanIsMyInkwell



Category: SKAM (Norway)
Genre: Anxiety, Crack, Cute Even Bech Næsheim and Isak Valtersen, Driving Lessons, Even Bech Næsheim Loves Isak Valtersen, Fluff and Humor, Grumpy Isak, Isak's Birthday, Isak's birthday video, M/M, Missing Scene, Protective Even Bech Næsheim, Sensory Overload, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, he's also extremely dramatic just like all the isaks across the universes, like is that even a question?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:33:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24741610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheOceanIsMyInkwell/pseuds/TheOceanIsMyInkwell
Summary: “We have legs,” says Isak. “Can’t we use our legs?” And no, he is decidedly not whining.“No, no, we use our legs tomorrow. We’ve gotta use the car now.”Isak sighs--as everyone would have guessed--dramatically.“I don’t understand, you could barely sleep a wink last night bugging me about this,” Even says. He cocks his head to the side, a wisp of his half-gelled bangs falling over his brow, as he goads his boyfriend into looking at him.“I was a younger man then. So naive, so foolish--”A snort rips from Even’s chest. “Isak. You just--put your hand on the steering wheel, and your foot on the brake. And then shift the gear.”“Oh, I long for simpler times,” Isak goes on warbling, ignoring him entirely.--Or: That scene from Isak's birthday video where Even tries and fails to teach him how to drive. Dramatic sighs are heaved, muffled screams are had, and Isak seriously doesn't know how to draw a proper heart on the car window.
Relationships: Even Bech Næsheim/Isak Valtersen
Comments: 30
Kudos: 108





	The Boy Who Couldn't Draw to Save His Life

**Author's Note:**

> Alternatively titled: The Boy Who Couldn't Draw for Shit but there are actual literal babies perusing my ao3 profile sooo. yeah
> 
> I come in fresh on the wave of my renewed SKAM hyperfixation and guess what! have i read a lick of evak fanfic on ao3 yet? no. do i have a clue if this has been done already? also no. am I dumping this on y'all's doorstep with complete and idiotic confidence that this is the missing scene we all want and need? HELL YES.
> 
> Also in response to prompt #22 from [this drabble prompt challenge](https://theoceanismyinkwell.tumblr.com/post/190336432688/the-way-you-said-i-love-you): "The way I said 'I love you'--muffled, through the other side of the door." My previous takes on this for other fandoms has been decidedly a lot angstier and more dramatic. We're mixing things up now in the name of crack, babey!
> 
> Theme song (of course): ["Nattergal" by Gabrielle](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xmafx55Ylnk)
> 
> Inspired by: [Isak's birthday video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L8ypu3Vi23g)

**Onsdag 16:42**

“It’s a machine. It goes anywhere you want it to go.”

“That’s what they say about the heart, and look where that leaves people,” Isak points out. He’s about two seconds away from crossing his arms over his chest and maybe even throwing in a pout or two, but he knows the instant he does that it will be another round of teasing from Even, so he’s holding off on the dramatics. For the next few seconds, maybe. Marginally.

Even is giving him a look from the passenger side. The Even look, with the Even brow. Isak knows it.

“Really. That’s what they say about the heart.”

“Yes,” Isak says, unsure now, but he’s sticking to his guns.

“Well, we need to get the car started so we can get to the other side of the parking lot and have our kebab,” Even says. “I don’t know what to tell you.”

“We have legs,” says Isak. “Can’t we use our legs?” And no, he is decidedly not whining.

“No, no, we use our legs tomorrow. We’ve gotta use the car now.”

Isak sighs--as everyone would have guessed--dramatically.

“I don’t understand, you could barely sleep a wink last night bugging me about this,” Even says. He cocks his head to the side, a wisp of his half-gelled bangs falling over his brow, as he goads his boyfriend into looking at him.

“I was a younger man then. So naive, so foolish--”

A snort rips from Even’s chest. “Isak. You just--put your hand on the steering wheel, and your foot on the brake. And then shift the gear.”

“Oh, I long for simpler times,” Isak goes on warbling, ignoring him entirely.

“It’s going to be fine,” Even says with as much conviction as he can muster. Which is admittedly not much, at least not to the perspective of an already spiraling Isak, but Even deserves all the points for effort. “Seriously, Isak. I was in this position too, before. It gets better as you go.”

“When has _anyone_ ever said that and it turned out to be true?”

“Um, many times?” Even slips an arm behind the driver headrest and fiddles with the radio with his other hand.

“No radio. Nope. I’m going to get distracted and my senses will--overload--”

“Okay. Okay, no radio,” Even agrees. He glances back at Isak. “C’mon, you can do this. I’ll be right here.”

“The kebab place is literally _right there_...”

“And we have to get from here to there, and it’s just a short little roll. Come on.” Even drums his fingers lightly against the back of the headrest, as if in a substitute gesture of combing his hands through Isak’s hair. “You can do it. You have to do it.”

“But--but--it’s so scary.”

Even’s mouth quirks up, and he’s about to rattle off a list of things that are _actually_ scary, when he stops and pauses a moment to take in his boyfriend’s posture. Isak is rigid, pressed against the driver’s seat as if he can melt into the microfiber at any moment and evaporate from this situation into the stratosphere. His breath comes quicker, ever so slightly, but it doesn’t escape Even’s notice. His knee jiggles once, before Isak schools himself and mashes his sneakered foot against the mat to keep his tic under wraps.

A wave of protectiveness blossoms inside Even. Torn between worry and warmth, he reaches over without a second thought, hand out to grab Isak by the cheek and turn his head so they can see one another face-to-face. Isak Valtersen, adorable idiot that he is, dashes those romantic plans by slapping his own hands over his eyes and erupting in a muffled scream.

“Isak. Isak,” Even murmurs. He moves his hand to Isak’s bicep. “Isak. Are you okay?”

“I’m so okay. Why wouldn’t I be okay?” comes the barely intelligible voice of the other boy. “I’m going to freeze up and run over a kitten and roll to my death, all in the name of _kebab_ \--”

“You’re not gonna freeze up or roll to your death or run over a kitten--Jesus, a kitten? Really?” 

Isak screams behind his palm again, with every increasing urgency.

“Sorry, sorry. Couldn’t resist.”

“You drive,” Isak mumbles.

“But, baby, I already know how to drive.”

“Exactly. So you drive.”

“We’re trying to get _you_ to know how to drive. So, you know. We can actually have our kebab.”

“I’d rather starve.”

Even clucks his tongue gently, resisting the urge to actually coo aloud at Isak’s dramatic declarations. He may be finding this entire situation amusing, but he knows for a fact by now that Isak’s anxiety is climbing toward the roof. He pulls his arm back from behind the headrest and slips it around Isak’s shoulder instead.

It takes a moment for Isak to respond--he’s all stiff and vibrating and unconscious to the rest of the world--but when he does, the effect is palpable. He settles back into the warm pressure of Even’s arm, and gradually his hands go down from his face to reveal splotchy cheeks and red spots where the pads of his fingers pressed too hard against his brow bone.

Isak takes one look at the barely concealed shine of mirth in Even’s eyes, and threatens, “Don’t say anything or I’ll cut off your quiff while you’re sleeping.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Even says around a deplorable little smile. On a more serious note, he asks again: “Are you okay?”

“Seriously, can we not just get up and walk over there?”

Even considers his options for a moment. Sometimes Isak gets like this, flopping back onto the bed and flailing in despair at the latest assignment he pushed till the last minute and that he needs motivation for, and Even knows that just a little firmness, a little teasing threat or the bribe of food and kisses for later will do the trick to get Isak back on his feet and working again. But there’s something genuine about the way Isak shifts away from Even’s searching gaze and runs a hand repeatedly through his hair to wipe the heel of his palm over his left eye. This mood is a bit rarer, but Even has been witness to it too, before: on the night when Isak blandly agreed to accompany him to the new bar and suffered in silence for an entire thirty minutes from sensory overload before Even noticed anything. Even cursed himself later for days for having been so wrapped up in his own excitement and mistaken perceptions of Isak’s enjoyment to have actually checked on his boyfriend sooner.

“Well,” Even says slowly, tasting the next steps on his tongue with caution, “if it’s really all a bit much for you now, you might not be able to focus too well. I...get that.”

Isak pauses. There’s a war in his eyes, one side eager to prove himself, most likely, and the other just pleading with Even to relent and set this aside for another day.

“Maybe we should start in the morning, then. Could be...tomorrow morning, or--another morning. Bright and fresh and early.”

Isak nods, this time, growing visibly more relaxed. The seconds drag by, punctuated by his characteristic awkward silence, and then he reaches over to pop his seatbelt open.

As Isak lays his hand on the door handle, Even speaks up again to confirm, “So we’re not driving?”

Isak’s brow furrows and he stares at his knees for a moment. Then he takes the liberty of finally willing his muscles to work, jerking open the door and stepping out before leaning in through the open window to mutter, “I don’t know.”

Despite everything, Even feels a soft smile crease his own face in response. “Okay. That’s fine.”

The gravel crunches underfoot as Isak makes his way around to the passenger side. He stands there for a second, just staring down at Even through the window, while Even sits with a prim look back at him.

“What?” says Even.

“Well, aren’t you gonna get out? We need to switch places.” 

“Oh. Hm.” Even pretends to consider that.

Isak raps at the glass with his knuckle and leans down a fraction, elbows out and hands on his knees. His voice is warped by the glass. “Fine, then. I’m leaving you.”

“Oh, but baby, what about the prenup?” Even drawls, shit-eating grin growing across his face.

“I’m leaving you,” Isak says again, still bent down to look at him. “I’m walking by myself and getting my own kebab and you don’t get any. And then I’m going to the ice cream place and I’ll buy all the scoops and you’ll be here without anything.”

“Oh, no. Oh, dear.”

“I hate you,” Isak says decidedly.

Even smiles beatifically at him. “Elsker deg også.”

They lock eyes with one another through the glass, mouths twitching, Isak’s right eye a second away from winking, probably, while Even alternates between suppressing his guffaws and blowing kisses through the window.

Isak then breathes a cloud of vapor onto the window and starts drawing with the tip of his finger. Even shakes his head at first, expecting another cheesy heart, but as Isak continues to draw his confusion grows.

Until Isak straightens and against the shadow of his shirt through the window, Even can see the clumsy outline of a hand and a middle finger that his boyfriend drew there.

“Hey!” Even hollers, and grabs for the door handle. He stumbles out, all legs and huffs and uncoordinated indignation. “Hey! _Hey_!”

Isak turns and bolts--tripping over his own feet in the process and righting himself with a flail of his arms--and his shrieks of laughter ring loud across the parking lot.

**Author's Note:**

> I love driving but I also do get major sensory overload from people talking to me or the radio playing while I'm driving so?? guess I was hardcore projecting on Isak in this one!
> 
> It's my first try at characterizing Isak and Even. I've written for the France and Belgium remakes before, but never the Norwegian. I'm so eager to know what y'all think! Don't hesitate to drop a comment or two down below!! I absolutely adore hearing from you. And of course I'm always open to prompts <3 -kaleb
> 
> muh tumblr: theoceanismyinkwell  
> muh insta: kc.barrie
> 
> [my evak moodboard on pinterest](https://www.pinterest.com/kcbarrie/writing-moodboards/skam-evak/)


End file.
